Attempting Sanity
by Eolos
Summary: In the first season, Buffy suffered from a clinical death, where the heart stops beating, but there is still brain activity. What went through Buffy’s head during those few moments of death? What empowered and motivated her to finally kill the Master?
1. Chapter 1

**Attempting Sanity**

**Chapter One**

Sleep. Or pretend to sleep. Either way, it was working.

Buffy was cheese on a grilled cheese sandwich, and her mattress being the bread. All her melt-y goodness was eagle spread style. One hand had hidden itself under her pillow, supporting her head. It had probably gone asleep, which was an inconvenience. Her eyes were twisted shut so hard that her brow furrowed in an awkward position. She had been waiting three hours for the lights to go out. There was a strict nine o'clock lights out, but tonight the hall lights remained on. She faintly heard the breathing of her roommate, who could sleep through an earthquake and wake up not knowing where she was. She used this time of faux-sleeping to count the tiny _whiffs_ her roommate's nose made when she breathed in.

_Seven thousand and sixty-two… seven thousand and sixty-four… seven thousand and sixty-six…_

_Wait; shit… sixty-five… now sixty-six, or is it sixty-seven? Dammit. _

She sat up in her bed and looked around the room. A few shelves, two feet high, bolted to the ground, a window, which was barred off and had a thick layer of plastic protecting the fragile glass. Underneath it was a radiator, which was supposed to emit heat. It didn't. It only let out soft rumblings every now and then. Buffy assumed it was rats. Maybe she could make friends. There were two twin-sized beds, separated by two bedside tables. There were no lamps, and the lights were far up in the ceiling so no one could jump up and break them, or, you know, get electrocuted. But, hey, what a way to go. Deep-fried, crispy on the outside, soft and gooey in the inside.

Wow, she was spending a bit too much time here. She must be going insane. No more thinking about the gooey, soft center of people. She huffed out a sigh and opened her eyes. There was no use pretending. She just _wasn't_ sleepy. But she _did_ have to pee.

She stood up, her white baggy pajama pants swooshed underneath her. Her feet were cold, and the last remains of her nail polish weren't exactly a pretty sight. She suddenly wished for socks, or slippers. As if on command, she spotted a pair of bunny slippers. A smile split her face as she slipped into them. They used to make little bunny noises when she walked, but she hadn't replaced the batteries in three years. Buffy exited her room and looked down the hall. The lights gave off an eerie green-yellow washed look to the halls. One flickered above her and burnt out.

_Lovely_, she thought as she trotted down the hall. She passed many rooms. All doorless. You could do bad things behind closed doors, but with everything open, it was free game. She turned a swift corner and spotted the bathroom monitor.

"I have to pee." Her voice almost shocked herself. It was low, cold, and raspy. The young girl who sat there flipped the page of her _Cosmo_ and pointed at a sign. Buffy looked over, squinted, and read; "Level-one patients have two minutes in the lavatory." She blinked. Was she level one? The girl grunted and threw back, her thumb at the bathroom door. The sixteen year old shrugged and entered. She didn't bother to look around the cold, echo-y bathroom. She went straight to the second to last stall and relieved herself. She looked for the flush but only saw a button. She pressed it and the water swirled beneath her. When fully clothed, she sat back down on the toilet and stared at her bunny slippers. They stared back up at her. Three painfully blue eyes. Only three, the left eye on the right slipper had fallen off. She reached down and ripped off the left eye from the left slipper. She pocketed it and left the stall.

She looked at herself in the mirror in front of her and wasn't pleased with what she saw. Her eyes appeared to be sunken in, and hallow. Traces of old makeup smeared from her eyes and face. Her hair, tattered, greasy and in tangles, looked as if it was on its last leg. It looked reasonably darker. She had only ever lightened her hair once before, but it had always retained its natural golden color. She ran her fingers through it, examining her scalp. Her hair had been dyed brown, and badly so. She looked up, expecting to see someone staring at her.

But no one was there.

She suddenly felt a sharp pain to the head. Her forehead hit the sink, specifically the tab to turn the hot water on. As she snapped back, she reeled her head around to face a man. Large, ugly, and probably dumb. She was grabbed her by the hair and smashed her face to the tiled floor. Slowly and steady, the spaces between the white tiles turned red. Blood. It was blood. Her blood. She tried to focus her eyes, but they refused. Buffy was becoming increasingly queasy as she forced her eyes open. She let out the breath she had been holding in, and it felt like fire.

She slipped into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

It felt like seconds before a hard hand raked itself across her cheek. It wasn't exactly the best way to wake someone up who had been knocked out. She rolled on her side, only to be met in the face with a boot. Why, hello there Buffyface, I'm Big Boot. Please, let me crush you. And Big Boot did just that: crush Buffyface. Buffy pulled out from under the boot. Her cheek screamed with agony as she ripped herself away, the rubber sliding across its already sensitive exterior. She winced and looked up, only to be met with the face of a savage beast.

"Hello, dear," The Master chided, a smirk playing on his face. He squatted next to her, looking her straight in the eye. "Now, why don't you tell me how you got out of here? I don't want to have to hurt you." He thought for a moment. "No, that would be a lie. I do want to hurt you. I would like to hurt you very much. Note: I am using restraint."

"G-get out of here? What do you mean?" Buffy asked, clutching her cheek. Even with healing powers, it would take a good long four minutes for the burn to go away. She looked around her surroundings. Nothing. It was as if she was in a void. A cot in the corner, piled with fresh blankets, a toilet, a few crates that held a change of clothes. That was it. "What is this place?" She wondered aloud. She met the Master's gaze.

"Why, my dear, it's your home." He stroked her face with one of his taloned fingers. He added a bit of pressure as he slid down her jaw line. The blonde craned her neck, stressing her muscles. "Now, now, no need to tense. I'm not going to kill you. I just want to know…" He added a bit of strain to his voice. "… How you escaped."

"I-I didn't. I woke up in a bed. I thought I was back in…"

"You woke up in another bed? Impossible. You are in the maximum security ward," he paused. "Someone let you out. Didn't they?" He grabbed at her arm, and pulled her to her feet as if she was a doll. "Who, my child, who let you out?" He shook her hard, causing her head to rattle. Her mouth was agape. She couldn't say anything. "Heads _will_ roll. For this, no meals today. I know what hunger does to Slayers." He smiled at her, baring his fangs. "Sweet dreams, dear." He shut her door.

"What did I do?" Buffy blinked back tears. She hadn't moved since the Master had left. She didn't know what to do. What had happened? She tried to recollect her thoughts.

She went off to kill the Master and… that was it. It was the Spring Fling, Giles told Angel that she was going to die, Ms. Calendar said the world the ending, her mother had given her a nice dress; she quit, and came back to Slaying. Then everything went blank. She remembered talking to the Master and then… nothing. She woke up in that bed, went to go pee, and woke up to the Master's face. She obviously wasn't dead. But what happened? How did she get from Point A to Point Hell? Her head hurt. Probably from hitting it on the tab and being crushed under Ugly-Face's boot. What an ass.

"Willow… Giles… Xander… Angel! … Mom…" They were all going to die if she didn't get out. The Master was going to win. She got up and ran to the door, pounding on it. "Let me out! You have to let me out! _Please_!"

No one answered. She tried to break the door down. It wouldn't budge.

She sat down again, huddled against the wall. She brought her legs up to her chest and clutched them, crying into her knees. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She was supposed to normal again after she left L.A. Everything was supposed to be better now. Why was it ending up just like everything else? Because she was the Slayer? She didn't want it anymore! She never did! It took everything away from her. Her reputation, her family, her home, her school, her friends, Pike… everything. What did she do to deserve this? To have this curse laid about her. She was a good person! She always had been, a bit empty headed before, but she was a good person. Life hated her. Plain and simple. She was destined to live alone, and be a cat lady. _Great, just like great Aunt Eileen_, she thought as she leaned her head against the wall.

She looked up when she heard her door opening. The Master entered. "Chain her," he clipped to his vamp-servants. He looked over at Buffy. "Now, no funny business young lady." Two male vampires entered the chambers, carrying long, thick shackles. They were quickly clamped on her wrists. Buffy tested their weight and looked back up at the Master.

"Why are you doing this? Why can't you just kill me? It would be easier for you…" tears were piling down her face, dropping onto her nightgown. "Please… _please_…" Begging. This wasn't her. Who taught her to beg? Don't beg for anything, not even your life. Or death. Did people actually beg for their death? Maybe those who were suicidal, or have some terminal illness.

The Master stared at her. She could see him even though her head was down. It wasn't pity on his face, of course it wasn't pity. It was confusion. The vampire quickly skewed his face up again. "Another would rise, my dear," his voice was hallow. More hallow than that it normally was. He noticed that she knew, and quickly changed his tone. "I just want to break you, Buffy." He stroked her face, almost tenderly.

"Break me?"

The Master smiled as stood up straight. "Bring them in." Five vampire lackeys entered, in each of their clutches were five shadowed figures. It took Buffy only a moment to see who they were. Her eyes scanned along them lingering on each one. Her mother, Giles, Xander, and Willow. "Say what you will." The first vampire pushed Joyce forward. She was a mess. Her hair was ragged and matted, dirty was how Buffy would describe her mother's appearance. She noted that her mother's hair had thinned extensively. Joyce kept her head high. She looked straight at the Master.

"You monster. Killing a mother in front of her daughter. Coward." The woman was choking on her tears. Buffy looked at her mother, watching her tears streak down her face. The Master grinned. His teeth were just as filthy as she remembered. Why couldn't vampires just brush their fangs? Sure, the whole without reflection, but that just didn't excuse poor hygiene!

"I am a monster aren't I?"

Joyce looked at her daughter for the first time. Her eyes were different. They weren't the cheerful, pleasant, round orbs they used to me. Gray, and dead. Just like the walls. Just like everything in building. Gray and dead. "Kill this bastard, Buffy. Kill him." Her throat was promptly ripped out. Buffy crumpled onto herself, clutching at her head and body. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Her heart stopped. Her mother was dead. Killed, right in front of her. Why hadn't the anger surged? It was suppose to surge! It was just pain inside. Dripping down her body like cold water. Filling in the holes and gaps. Giles' voice broke through her sobs.

"I-I understand why you did what you did, Buffy. I wanted to apologize f-for pushing you so hard. You were everything and more what I wanted in for a Slayer." Giles wasn't any better than Joyce. He was a broken man. Buffy could see that. He had given up. He had given up on his Slayer.

"Giles… no… I'm sorry I—I" Buffy never finished. She couldn't talk to Giles anymore. He was all over the floor.

"Stay alive, Buffy. Take him down." Xander's voice filled her head. The Slayer raised her head. She couldn't not look; she had to see him one last time. His voice became almost a whisper. "I understand why you didn't want to dance." He didn't scream as the vampire dug into him. Buffy looked over at Willow. She looked so small. Her head was down, as if she was looking at her feet. Her red hair fashioned a dirty curtain in front of her face. Buffy tried to reach out for her.

"Oh… god, Willow. God willow. I'm sorry… I'm so sorry."

Willow didn't look up. Her voice had no emotion. "I know."

Dead. All dead. Their bodies lay before her. Their deaths were her fault. She knew it, it had to be her fault. She didn't even try break free. She failed. Te Master looked down t her, cocking his head. He smiled and stroked her head. "Sleep, child. When you wake, everything will be different." She tried to keep her eyes open. Begging didn't work on eyelids. They promptly shut and didn't open, as if they were locked shut. Her brain switched off as darkness pooled around her. She slept the sleeps of sleep. Dreamless. Just how she liked sleep. When there were no dreams to nag at her. No prophetic dreams to keep her up. It felt like seconds before she woke.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Buffy?" A voice broke. She didn't open her eyes. She knew the voice. A smile cracked her face. It was Willow… she hoped it was.

"Will?" No one answered. The room was darker than it had been. Deep, dank and dark. But everything had become quiet at that moment. Even the sink had stopped dripping. Try and break the silence. "Willow? Is… is that you?"

"Yeah. I-I think." Her voice was Willow! Or… Willow-like. But it was Willow all the same. Buffy tried to move but she realized she was still bound by the chains. She didn't bother to struggle to get out. Willow could do something. Willow knew things… she was smart. Maybe with all her computing she learned something about shackles. That was a small chance, Willow didn't seem like the one to check out "shackles" on the Internet. She'd only get bondage and s&m sites.

"Oh god, Willow. This is such a mess. I—I" She stopped. Buffy racked her brain for a solution. None came. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. "How did you… oh no. Willow. Not you."

Willow's smile broke the darkness. "I feel better, Buffy. Strong. Like you."

"Willow… we—we can do something. Get you a soul! Or something… Angel would know…" Angel… where was Angel? Willow granted her wish with a laugh. A single hallow, UnWillow laugh.

"Angel? Do you know what they did to Angel?" Buffy shook her head. She couldn't look into UnWillow's face. "Put him in the stocks." She looked up.

"The… stocks?"

"The Master likes to be… old-fashioned. They put him in a room, and each day the sun got a little closer to him. It was a week before he died. Went up like a wisp," UnWillow's muscles rippled. "I thought his soul would save him. I was wrong. Xander was glad tough." UnWillow saw the confused look on Buffy's face. "He didn't have to compete anymore. He thought he would have you all to himself. But you couldn't do that for him could you?" UnWillow came into the light… or what little light filtered in from some unnamed source. Her hand racked across Buffy's face. "As much as I wanted him, I just wanted to see him happy. Just once since you put us here."

"What? I didn't… how could I?"

"You gave up. You surrendered Sunnydale to him. He took over. Built this, and he keeps us here," she looked up at Buffy. "We're harvested here. They take blood from us every day. Vile full, by vile full. They couldn't kill us, because they need us. If they killed us, there would be no one left for them to eat. They would have to expand, and go to other cities. He says it's too much trouble. He'd r-rather keep us until we die, and use o-our daily supply of blood. They're rationing. Preserving our blood, and e-eating what they're allowed. They keep us healthy, and… trim—damn you. You bring out the old Willow in me." UnWillow's arm shook as she restrained herself from smacking Buffy again. Buffy noticed that Willow had scars around her bare forearms. The tiniest scars, but scars all and all. She also noted long, thin scars melded with the tiny needle marks. Willow looked at Buffy and quickly unraveled her sleeves so her forearms were covered. "We all deal with it differently. Or did. I really don't have to deal with it anymore. I'm the higher class."

"I—I thought I was back…"

"What?" Willow was obviously curious. She tilted her head to the side and peered at Buffy. It wasn't vampire like, but she had time to kill. A good story could lighten the mood. A show before dinner.

"Back at the Institution. I woke up here and I was in the bed… the exact same bed. I---"

"Why were you there?" Willow cut in. She quickly corrected herself, "At the institution."

Buffy didn't look at UnWillow. She couldn't. She just looked at her grubby knees. "After I burned down my school's gym, I went away for awhile. I was stupid enough to leave my diary out in the open." She saw a hint of humanity flash over Willow's face. It quickly disappeared.

"What? Joyce found poems of suicide and you slitting your wrists?" UnWillow grinned. "Sad."

"Vampires," Buffy broke in, her voice carrying only above a whisper. "I wrote about vampires and being the slayer. I went away… and when I came back, they sent me away. The same damn night…" she clenched her fists as a tear slid down her cheek. It felt like fire. Willow bent over Buffy, stroking her neck.

"Nice welcome home present. Well, Dove, you won't have to worry about that much longer…" UnWillow's faced changed as she slid closer to Buffy's jugular vein. Buffy felt the vampire's cold breath on her. She was too new at the game not to breathe. It was instinct for her.

"You can't kill me."

"I beg to differ—"

Buffy finally looked up. She looked strong. She was strong. "I'm too important. To Him. The Master."

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," the redhead said.

"He'd kill you on the spot." 

UnWillow laughed. "Don't you understand, Buffy?" Buffy looked up at UnWillow, who retained her human appearance. "You serve no purpose now. He found the other—the next. If you die, she's called, but we already have her."

The blonde swallowed and tried to regain her composure. "You can't be sure…"

"Magicks," the vampire said simply. "Strong ones. They found her just before her Watcher did. She can't cause any damage, like…"

"Like me," Buffy interjected. 

UnWillow patted her head as she put her mask back on. "Good girl. Now, close your eyes. It'll only hurt for a minute; it goes all fuzzy and dark. Unlike me, you won't have a shiny wake up. But it's okay… I'm here for you."

"You'll never taste the first drop." UnWillow had already lunged at her. It was too late to stop. Buffy's chains were already wrapped around the vampire's thin neck. She placed her foot on UnWillow's shoulder and pulled. Pop. Nothing but dust. Clapping caught Buffy's attention. The Master had arrived. She didn't bother to look at him. She knew everything he was going to say. He was fun that way.

"Lovely show, dear. Very powerful." He wiped at a non-existent tear away.

"You thought I wouldn't kill her. Because she was my best friend," Buffy looked up. Staring into his cold, undead eyes. "You were wrong."

"So it seems," the Master chided. "It was for the best, being right all the time isn't good for one's ego." He laughed.

"Bastard."

"Why do you try so much, Buffy? Why don't you just give up?"

"I don't do well with what's expected."

The Master looked at her. He shook the snarl off his face. "Cute. But now what? You have no back up? No family, no Watcher, no friends… no lover. You can't take me down---"

"Why do you always wear it?" 

"Wear what?" The Master questioned, looking at his appearance. He saw nothing wrong. He wore the same thing, always nice and shiny leather.

"Your mask. Do you think it makes you look scary? 'Coz it doesn't. Kind of silly, really." She had earned herself a slap to the face. Buffy didn't turn her head, or look away. "But I see what's behind the mask. Just a scared and weak man. I knew a vampire who used to do that. He was old like you. But I took him down, and I was only a few months on the job."

"Lothos," the Master spat.

"You knew him?"

"I made him. He was weak. A stubborn childe… a fool. You must be dreaming if you think you can beat me like you did him. You're alone, little girl."

"I know." The Master looked at her. "But I think it's time I wake up."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Pound. Breathe. Pound. Breathe.

The next pound never came. Her eyes fluttered open. Everything was blurry at first, like she had closed her eyes for a long time during class. Her eyes focused enough to make out two figures.

"Buffy!"

The voice was so familiar. No time to think, there's water in her throat. She turned her head, coughing it up, nearly gagging. Bad water. A hand came at her, stroking her forehead gently.

"Buffy." So familiar. The voice was so familiar. Her eyes still hadn't focused, but her ears were fine.

"Xander."

"Welcome back," he greeted, smiling. Or at least she thought he was smiling at her. She wasn't sure. The other figure grasped her arm. She knew the touch. Angel. Xander clamped onto her other arm.

"Easy. Easy." The ride to her feet was gentler. She looked beyond Angel and Xander, staring at her surroundings. Her eyes finally focused.

"The Master?"

Angel cut in. "He's gone up." Buffy straightened herself and started out, but Xander's voice stopped her.

"No. You're still weak."

The muscles in her neck and arms rippled. "No. No, I feel strong. I feel different." She turned to look at them. "Let's go."

She wasn't going to cause that world to become reality. Buffy knew that, she was going to try her hardest. But the Slayer didn't need to worry. Everything had changed. The tables had turned. She was going to win.


End file.
